


Certainty

by JantoJones



Series: Brief Briefings [89]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 15:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11255343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones





	Certainty

Aloysius Montgomery Hetherington glanced at his antique silver pocket watch, and frowned at his captive. 

“Your hour is almost up,” he said to Napoleon Solo, as he showed him the watch. “Your partner has less than three minutes to return what is mine. The second your hour runs out, I put a bullet through your skull.”

“That’s a very nice watch,” Napoleon commented, with infuriating calm. “Is it a family, heirloom?”

“Not that it matters, but I inherited from my grandfather.”

Hetherington was confused by his prisoner’s behaviour. He’d cuffed the man to a chair, and placed him under a death sentence, but he didn’t seem particularly worried.

“He must have been a rich man,” Solo continued.

“Do you realise you’ll be dead in a few minutes,” Hetherington yelled, his frustration getting the better of him. “I have no doubt that Kuryakin has left you behind. U.N.C.L.E. no doubt values the formula he took, over you.”

“I’m certain they do,” Napoleon replied. “Just as I am certain I will not be dying any time soon.”

“Your hope is misplaced,” Hetherington sneered, and checked the watch again. “One minute.”

Napoleon smiled, looking, for all the world, like a contented man. Even when his captor raised his gun at the thirty second mark, Solo’s demeanour didn’t change. 

“Ten,” Hetherington began the final countdown. “Nine, eight, seven, six, five.”

For the first time, Napoleon began to feel a little less certain.

“Four, three, two.”

BOOOOOOOOOOM!!

The wall behind Hetherington collapsed following the unexpected explosion. He span around and, with his mouth gaping open, stared at the dust filled space where the wall used to be. A few seconds later, Illya Kuryakin stepped through the cloud, with a maniacal grin on his face. He fired a sleep dart at Hetherington, before freeing Napoleon from his bonds.

“The formula?” asked Napoleon, rubbing the life back into his wrists.

“Handed off to Mark,” Illya replied, stooping to pick up Hetherington and throw him over his shoulder. Luckily, the man was smaller than he was.

As the agents stepped out through the hole Illya had just created, Napoleon made a comment about his partner arriving almost too late.

“Now you know how I feel when waiting for you,” was Illya’s only response.

“And why come in through the wall, instead of the door?” Solo’s playful criticism continued. “It was a little on the showy side.”

“It would have taken me five minutes longer to reach you,” the Russian replied. “Would you have preferred that?”

“Fair point, Tovarisch,” Napoleon conceded. “I’ll give you that one.”


End file.
